27

27

KADE

FLASHBACK 5

Freckles: Do you still have Jason’s car? Is it possible for you to pick me up later? It’ll be like two in the morning by the time I get through all my routines. It’s okay if you can’t. I can get an Uber.

Me: I can get you. 2 a.m.?

Freckles: Yeah. I have no make-up on, so don’t look at me.

Me: Do you forget I’ve seen you without make-up since we were 15? I’ll see you at 2.

She goes offline, and I grab a quick shower to try to sober myself after smoking too many joints. I’m really stoned, and I’m thinking the extra roll-up was a bad idea. Dez and Base will be in the pool house until the sun comes up, and I’m debating going back down for an hour. I had to leave after Base started speaking about my sister in Russian and Dez asked me who Freckles was after catching a glimpse at my phone screen.

Safe to say they are more than enthusiastic that I’m no longer frigid.

It’s just after one. If I go for a nap and set an alarm for half an hour, then I’ll never make it to pick her up. But if I go to see my friends, I’ll be too fucked up to drive.

Jason has let me use his car while he has Giana’s. I don’t think he’ll be too pleased to know I’ve been smoking in it or that I plan on picking up Stacey while baked as fuck.

I lie back on the bed, my hair still damp. I feel like I’m sinking into it, like the duvet is more comfortable than usual, that my pillow is a huge marshmallow.

Without meaning to, I close my eyes. And without meaning to, I fall asleep.

I sit up, my body aching from the angle I slept. I groan, rub my face, getting to my feet, crack my neck left and right and then stretch my arms above my head. I blow out a breath. When my eyes fall on the clock beside my bed, I see it’s seven in the morning, and a sudden tearing sensation rips through my chest.

“Shit!” I rush to grab clothes from my dresser, pulling socks on then one of my trainers. I hop along the floor while getting the other shoe on and snatch Jason’s keys from my unit. Then I stop, freezing all over. It’s seven, meaning I was supposed to get her five hours ago. She’s not going to be there. How far away is her house from the studio? What if she had to walk?

Two messages and one missed call.

Freckles: It’s too cold. I’m going to wait inside. Let me know when you’re here.

Freckles: Sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep. We never clarified what we were doing, so I just assumed we were… I don’t know? Not dating but not exactly casual, since we’ve been sneaking around for the last month. I won’t ask you again. It was wrong of me.

Me: Fuck, I’m sorry! I fell asleep. Did you get home okay? Don’t be sorry – you did nothing wrong. Message me when you wake up.

Tossing my phone on my bed, I think of every single way to slap myself, growing more anxious from her silence.

What if she’s still there?

Fuck. You fucking idiot, Kade.

I rush out of my room, nearly knocking Mum on her ass in the hallway.

“I was bringing these to your bathroom. Where are you going?”

“Um… I need to do something.”

She grabs my face with one hand. “Your eyes are bloodshot. Are you smoking again?”

“No,” I lie. “I just woke up.” I get to my feet. “I thought you were working today.”

“I was supposed to be. My patient, the little girl, died last night.” She gives me a tight smile. She’s exhausted. “Don’t look at me like that. Get going.”

I nod. “Sorry. Make sure you get some sleep. You look like shit.”

Mum narrows her eyes. “Leave, before I force you to clean the pool with me.”

When I go to turn, she says, “And, Kade? I know Ewan has spoken to you about this before, but if you’re sleeping with her, please wear protection.”

I pale. “I don’t need to hear this from you. And I’m not sleeping with her, alright?”

“Then be patient with her. Stacey will be ready when she’s ready.”

I stop. “She’s the one being patient with me.”

Mum stares at me for a second, and then her lips part. “Oh.”

Yeah. Oh.

Everyone’s assumption that I sleep around is starting to piss me off. As if I’m not getting annoyed at myself for being a skittish prick when around her, I need to deal with my friends, and now my mother, thinking I’m fucking Stacey.

Wait.

“How do you know? Dad told you?”

She starts to walk away. “Your dad tells me everything. Now go. I’ll see you when you get home.”

Torrential rain pours as I drive away from the manor and out the gates, picking up speed when I reach the motorway. She hasn’t replied to my message yet, so I send another while I drive, asking if she’s home.

“Hi, you’re through to Stacey. Leave a message.”

I hang up and drive faster.

I head straight to the studio and get there within half an hour. The doors are locked, and I contemplate kicking them in to see if she’s inside.

I call again. No answer.

She might be asleep inside.

I knock on the door – three hard thumps. “Stacey? Are you in there?”

Nothing.

I go back to the car and light a cigarette, debating whether to ask Luciella for Stacey’s address so I can make sure she isn’t still walking home.

My heart feels weird. It’s the reaction I used to get as a kid, thinking one of my parents would catch me out on a lie or give me into trouble when I did something wrong. That uncertainty that something bad is coming.

I know what butterflies feel like, but this is different. I feel sick, as if I could throw open the car door and bring up my guts.

I’m dizzy, and I realise I’m breathing fast and hard.

What’s wrong with me?

I get out of the car again, the rain drenching me as I stand staring at the studio building. The coldness helps whatever’s ripping me to shreds inside, but I still have the twisting feeling in my stomach.

I walk down the side of the building, checking the other doors and windows, sighing in relief when one opens. I slip in. It closes behind me, and I’m surrounded by darkness. The LEDs are always on, so when I see a pink glow under one of the doors in the corridor, I head for it.

Stacey isn’t here. The place is empty and smells of pine – as it always does when she’s cleaned up after herself. Poles and hoops crowd me, crash mats piled on the right, a full wall of mirrors to the left.

I find the folder full of everyone’s details and scan for Stacey’s name.

Five minutes later and nothing. How many students do they have?

I open the file of employee details. Jackpot.

Stacey Rhodes. Teaching qualifications and training in pole fitness, pole dance, erotic dance, aerial hoop, disco dance, kids dance, contemporary dance, silks and fire dance.

Damn. My girl is talented.

I leave the studio as soon as I find her address.

Stacey lives on a fancy estate. Her house is big, with three floors, white bricks and security gates. All the lights are out except for one at the top right. The curtains are closed, but I can see the shadow of someone moving around.

I finish my smoke and flick it out the window, debating what to say. An apology obviously. An explanation. And, hopefully, she forgives me and tells me to come in.

I’ll kiss her and go back to sleep in her bed. Then we’ll be good.

So why are my hands shaking so badly?

I buzz the gate, wait a few minutes, and when no one grants me access, I climb the wall. I’m not giving a shit if I set off alarms. I need to see her.

Nothing happens though, so her family definitely needs to sack their security team.

I walk around the small fountain at the front steps and knock on the door. Once. Twice. A third time for good measure.

My heart races to an unbearable pace, and I shove my hands in my pockets to stop them from trembling when I hear the door unlocking.

A man with a grey beard pulls it open. “Can I help you?”

Rain drips down my face. “Is Stacey here?”

“Who are you?” he asks, wary. He looks as if I just broke into his house and asked to kidnap his daughter. “How did you get in?”

I shrug. “I climbed the wall. Is Stacey here?”

“You…” He chokes, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Who the hell are you?”

Before I can glare and tell him to watch his fucking tone, a soft voice stops me.

“Dad, it’s okay.”

A small hand rests on his shoulder, and the door opens wider. My lungs fill when Stacey comes into view in her PJs.

“He’s a friend.”

I think the fuck not. Instead of showing any hint of how that one word burns me, I keep my hands in my pockets and wait for her dad to fuck off.

Stacey waits until he’s out of earshot then turns to me. “Why are—”

“I fell asleep,” I cut in, taking a careful step towards her. “I didn’t mean to. Are you alright? Did you have to walk? Did you get an Uber?”

“My dad came for me. You didn’t need to come all the way over here.” Then she frowns. “How did you know where I lived?”

I broke into the studio and violated your privacy, then climbed the wall when the gate wouldn’t open.

“I’m resourceful.”

“Oh…” She taps the door, chewing her lip. “You need to go.”

My insides drop. “Why? I’m sorry. I wanted to come and see you. I really did.”

She looks behind her, then her eyes are on me again. “I’ll see you later, okay? Thanks for bringing my phone.”

I frown. “Eh?”

She gives me a tight smile as she closes the door, and I momentarily freeze.

I knew I’d fuck this up.

I rub my hand through my hair then grab my phone and type another apology out as I leave. The gate opens for me, and I slip into my car.

My heart is beating so hard.

Before I can drive off, the door swings open, and green eyes look at me. “Hi.”

I stare at her as she sits. “Hi.”

“My phone died – that’s why I couldn’t text back. You really didn’t need to drive away over here. My dad is kind of on edge all the time and isn’t a fan of boys near the house.” She clips her belt in. “Not that I have boys over. He’s just… overbearing sometimes.”

“Yeah,” I reply. “I thought you might have walked home. I wanted to catch you.”

“At eight in the morning?”

I shrug. “Are you… good with me?”

“Of course.”

I’m confused. I blink at her.

She sighs. “You scared my dad. He was caught off guard. He’s usually really nice.”

“So you aren’t mad at me?”

“Of course not. I thought I overstepped. Can you drive somewhere?”

I start the engine. “You didn’t overstep. You could ask me to drive you to fucking Australia and I’d find a way to do it. Where do you want to go? Luciella is still in Stranraer.”

“Anywhere. I can’t stay out for long.”

I nod, and in comfortable silence, I drive us to Loch Thom and park next to the water.

I don’t move my hand away when she takes it, lacing our fingers and resting our hands in her lap.She looks so innocent and sweet and fucking adorable.

I’m going to miss her when I go to America for two weeks.

Stacey doesn’t let go of my hand as she unclips her belt and turns her body to face me. I do the same. “As much as I should be giving you shit for breaking into the studio and then into my garden, I find it cute that you went to those lengths.”

I tilt my head. “You knew I was in the studio?”

Nodding, she giggles. “I got an alert on my phone. I saw it when I turned it on. You’re lucky Tylar didn’t get one too. She would’ve called the police.”

“I guess I am lucky.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm,” I repeat. “You sure you aren’t mad at me? I honestly fell asleep.”

“I believe you,” she says with a spark in her eyes. “You’re just my friend anyway.”

I narrow my eyes to slits. “Say that again and I’m going to kick you out of this car and drive away.”

“Will you at least kiss me before you do?”

“Maybe,” I say, letting go of her hand and curling a strand of hair behind her ear. “Maybe I’ll just kick you out and drive away.”

She snorts. “You think I believe with the lengths you went to see me, you’d leave me up here?”

“I guess we’ll see.”

“Okay, friend.”

I open my door and she lets out a scream, scrambling away from the passenger door. As I try to catch her leg, she dives into the back seat. I climb in with her, andinstead of dragging her out, I trap her beneath me, both hands above her head. We breathe heavily. We’re both smiling, her giggle making me smile harder.

“Do I Wanna Know?” by Arctic Monkeys is faintly playing on the radio. Her eyes drop to my mouth, fingers intertwining with my own, and as I lower my head slowly, my nose nudges hers.

“I’m not your friend, Freckles. Do you know why?” I kiss her lips. “Because friends don’t do this.” I kiss her again, her top lip, then the bottom, before dragging my mouth across the sharp line of her jaw. “If I was your friend, I wouldn’t think about you every second of the day. I wouldn’t want to feel you.” Taking flesh between my teeth, I suck, and she gasps. “All of you.”

And I mean it. I want her. I want her so bad my cock is fucking sore with how hard it is. I don’t want to just fuck her and disappear like Dez and Base do; I want to share every single first with her and stick around.

No matter what, the progression between me and Stacey will be slow. Progress is progress. I truly believe she won’t vanish because I need to take things in steps.

I pull my face back to look at her. “Am I your friend?”

“No.”

Taking her wrists with one hand, I use the other to move hair from her face, resting it as a collar on her throat. Her pulse is rapid against my palm, her pupils dilating more with each passing second. There’s a thrill in watching my fingers flex around her throat, a thrill I never knew existed.

I lean down and kiss her again, sucking on her bottom lip and then slipping my tongue into her mouth. Stacey chases my lips as I try to pull back, and her wrists get free; she shoves both hands into my hair and deepens the kiss. Tasting her, feeling her beneath me, even smelling her perfume has me parting her legs with my knee and settling properly between them.

I don’t freeze as I feel my dick against her – or as she wraps her legs around my waist and locks her ankles.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” I reply into her mouth, our tongues tangling, lips moving, heads tilting. My hips absently roll into her, and we both gasp.

I do it again.And again.Fuck. And again.

She’s tugging at my hair as I grab her thigh, keeping the slow rhythm while kissing her. “I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

She nods, her lips parted, pupils fully blown.

I shift onto my side, bringing her mouth back to mine as my fingers slowly travel from her cheek, across her jawline, down the expanse of her throat, and stopping on her right shoulder blade.

“I shouldn’t have broken into the studio,” I say as I trail over her breast, her hard nipple.No fucking bra.

“I’m glad you did,” she breathes, swiping her tongue against my bottom lip and taking it between her teeth as I tease along the waistband of her pants. “I’m also glad you fell asleep.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.” I stop breathing as she lowers her hand and grabs my dick. “I wouldn’t be able to do this.”

I press my mouth to hers harder, then pull away and tug at her waistband. “I’m taking these off.”

Ilift her hips, yank the material down her smooth legs and kiss the side of her knee. I want to set fire to her shoes when the fabric snags on them. I pull both trainers off and toss them somewhere in the car, followed by her trousers.

In only her underwear and a pink hoodie, Stacey Rhodes lies beneath me, breathless, her lips full and begging for me to dive in again.

So I do. I swallow each gasp, each sound she makes as my hands explore her body.

Whimpering, she digs her nails into my arm as I lower my hand. I watch it glide over the soft skin of her abdomen, the muscles she’s been building for years, and stop at the waistband of her underwear.

I feel her with the tip of my middle finger. The material is fucking soaked, and I had no idea Base was telling the truth when he boasted about how wet he could get someone.Stacey is really wet for me as I tease her and kiss her and press against her clit through her underwear.

“Is this good?” I ask, slowly circling my finger.

She moans and rolls her hips up. “Yes.”

“You need to tell me what to do,” I say, not feeling an ounce of embarrassment. “When you touch yourself, what gets you off?”

Stacey wets her lips and rests one hand on my wrist, the other moving aside the triangle of fabric covering her. “What you were just doing – do it now.”

Her head drops back on the seat as I do just that, as I feel the slickness of her folds, the arousal against my fingers, the swollen clit that has her whimpering when I circle it with my thumb. Warm, wet, her eyes wild as I lean down to capture her mouth.

My cock hardens even more. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Her mouth breaks away from mine with a gasp as I slowly push one finger inside her. Gently, I wait, feeling her tightness, yet she’s soaked enough that I can probably push another in. But I’ll wait for her to adjust.

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” she replies and pulls my face back to hers. “Keep going.”

I slowly ease my middle finger in until I’m knuckle deep, then glide it out and back in. Each time I push, her body shakes. I add a second finger, being careful not to hurt her, and her lips travel to my throat, sucking as she gasps.

I bury my head down, inhaling the scent of her coconut shampoo. I get knuckle deep with both fingers, keeping my thumb on her clit, circling, pumping, feeling her breathing against my neck as I go a little faster, a little harder as I curl my fingers.

“Tell me if I’m doing it wrong,” I say, dodging her hand as she tries to touch me. “No. This is about you.”

Stacey has a thin layer of sweat on her – her cheeks are red, her hair wild, but her eyes are wilder.

My dick just about explodes as she says, “I think I’m—”

She doesn’t get to finish her sentence. Not because I stop her, but because her words are cut off when something erupts inside her, tightening around my fingers.

Shattering like glass, Stacey moans and sinks her nails into my skin. I hiss, capturing her bottom lip between my teeth while I continue fucking her with my fingers. I can feel her pulsing, the wet heat drenching my hand while she rocks her hips through the orgasm ripping through her.

When I slowly withdraw my fingers, soaked in her arousal and cum, she winces slightly.I rest my hand on her thigh. “You okay?”

She nods, and then smiles. “That was unbelievable. We need to do it, like, all the time.”

I chuckle, wiping my fingers on my grey sweats. “Fine by me. Do friends go on dates?” I ask her, grinning. “Or would I be crossing the line by taking you on one before I leave for America?”

Stacey snakes her arms around me. “We are friends,” she says, and I feel like tossing her in the loch. “But we’re also more.”

“Hmm…”

She hums back. “You haven’t asked me yet.”

I narrow my eyes. “I’m not asking, Freckles. You’re going on a date with me.”